


belief in some things, faith in others

by Cursed_angel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn, All the time, And try and work it out, Angst, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Romance, Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is super protective, Denial of Feelings, Discover new feelings!, M/M, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Slow Burn, Watch these two idiots learn how emotions work!, eventual Confession of feelings, everyones pining, hurt comfort, yayyyyyy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-31 07:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19421182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cursed_angel/pseuds/Cursed_angel
Summary: He was and angel, bad with emotions. He was a demon, stubbornly forged in hellfire.Could I be anymore obvious?The ineffable odd couple skirted the apocalypse, now they had to figure out how to spend their eternities together. Alas, their future planning gets stopped abruptly when the angel meets a demon hunter, and things go all wonky.Some believe in love, others don't.The two are forced to face their feelings for each other while hunting down a demon hunter.





	1. Wunderbar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, This is my first work in the Ineffable fandom and I'm so excited to dip my toe into this wonderful ship. 
> 
> This first chapter is pretty short and sweet but it's just setting everything up, later chapters will be longer.

Most people believe that at the end of every rainbow, is a pot of gold. They’d be correct in every case but this one.  
At the very end of this particular rainbow is an angel and a demon are sitting on a tartan blanket, eating cream puffs and tea sandwiches with champagne. 

“This was a capital idea, my boy.” The angel said, beaming ear to ear. The demon smirked at the compliment and sipped the 200 year old champagne the angel had provided. 

“Thank you, Angel, wouldn’t have been possible without you of course.” The demon said warmly, well, as warmly as a demon could. "Oh please" The angel beamed and looked down into his wine glass, then to his demon. It was a lovely day, a beautiful, wonderful, temperate day, to the angel and the demon of course. The day, in all reality, was a terribly unlucky day for most other creatures on the planet. Rainy and dank, today was the kind of day bosses were urged to request employees stay late, the kind of day that make toddlers sob act up. A horrible awful, gross day in all other respects. All respects except for the angel and the demon, being together without worry. Without sides. 

“Now, about this... "our side" business.” The angel started, his mouth tightening and his posture correcting itself. “What... does it entail exactly?”

“Well,” the demon started, thinking hard, adjusting his body and taking in a deep breath. “In entails whatever we want it to, I guess. We could go anywhere, anywhere in the world and we don’t have to report back to anyone anymore. “

“And you’re sure they’ll... just leave us be?” The angel asked nervously. 

“For a time, I guess.” The demon looked at the angel through the top of his glasses. “Well just have to see."

“I guess we will.” The angel raised his champagne flute and the demon raised his to meet it. 

“Is there anywhere.. you were thinking about going?” The angel asked as he pulled his flute back to him. 

“Oh I don’t know... I’ve heard Germany is nice this time of year.” The demon stated looking out into the rather damp park, their spot being miraculously dry of course. “Wouldn’t it be nice to visit the alps? see the Bavarian countryside? Drink the german beer? The German cakes?” The demon raised his eyebrow and smiled at the angel, a warm, inviting smile he’d used to tempt so many humans. “We’re free now Angel, we can go where we please.”

“Germany?” The angel asked in disbelief. “I’ve never been to Germany.” He said pressing his finger to his lips pensively. “That was always Jophiel’s jurisdiction... Would you mind if i tagged along?" 

"Tagged alo- Aziraphale I was- Inviting-" The demon sighed, and melted a bit. "Yes of course you can come." Aziraphale was so charming to the demon. Charming in a way the demon had never seen before, never felt before. The demon loved the angel, more than anything in eternity. The demon found his heart in the hands of a clueless angel. 

“Alright, you’ve tempted me.” Aziraphale said picking up a cream puff and gazing at it before consuming it with a small grin of pleasure. “Let’s go to Germany.”

“Wunderbar!” The demon exclaimed rubbing his hands together excitedly. “We'll leave Wednesday.”

“Wednesday It is” The angel smiled once more to the demon, a warm kind of smile that reminded the demon how worth it defying both God and Satan had been. 

"I love you" Is what the demon wanted to say to his angel, "Alright, I'll see you then." Is what he actually said, downing the rest of the champagne and standing over the angel. 

"Oh uh-" Aziraphale said snapping, everything conveniently and miraculously packed up. 

"Come on, Angel." The demon said sauntering towards the Bentley. The angel scrambled up, grabbing his blanket and basket, following behind the demon. 


	2. Antiques and Holy water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angel gets in trouble with an American

Our Angel and Demon stop with a skid in front of the A.Z. Fell and Co. book store. 

“Your stop.” The demon said. 

The angel opened his mouth, words starting to form, eyes tracing the backlit profile of the demon. His face, lightly skin kissed, his hair, tussled by the wind, the way the light was hitting him he almost looked... “Crowley” the angel managed. 

“Yes, Aziraphale.”

“Forget it” the angel panicked and pushed the door open, clutching his picnic blanket under his arm. He closed the door after him and marched into his book shop. 

The angel squeezed his hands into tight fists and paced around the store aimlessly. Emotions were not Aziraphale’s forte and the feelings he was getting for his friend was not something he anticipated such a push from. He’d felt.. feelings for the demon before but since they swerved the apocalypse and chose their own side, it was almost impossible to ignore anymore. 

Going to Germany was just going to bring these to the forefront. This scared the angel. More than either heaven or hell could. 

The bell on the store’s door rang and the Angel perked up, the angel forgot to lock the door. 

“Oh dear” the angel grumbled, moving to the front of the store. “I’m very sorry, we’re clo-“ a woman was standing in the entrance area of the book shop, a large spear in her hand. The spear.. it felt strange to the angel. It had an... aura about it. 

“I’m sorry we just sell books here not other antiq-“

“This ain’t an antique demon” the woman said.

Great, An American. The angel thought to himself. 

“Oh well... I’m sorry we don’t allow weapons on the premises.”

“This ain’t just any weapon, grandpa.” The woman said. She was young but Aziraphale did not look that old, though of course he was. “Right here is the spear of destiny.” 

It hit the angel. Demon hunter. Panic sunk in, finding a home in the deep pits of the angels stomach, settling with the cream puffs. 

“You know what the spear of destiny is right?”

“Of course I do.” The angel said as politely as he could muster. 

“You know what it would do to you right?”

“Vaguely.”

THWACK

The woman flicked the spear around, the “thwack” being from her other hand grabbing the spear and holding it out towards the angel. 

“It’s your turn to die, angel.”

The strange phrase made Aziraphale freeze for a moment but he was able to gently skirt out of the way of the lunging woman. She was pretty far away to start. The angel went for the door but the woman was too fast, dashing in front of the angel and holding out the spear, thrusting it into the angels stomach. The spear cleared through the angel, with help from the angels own momentum towards the door. The woman twisted the blade. 

It hurt the angel. No... it didn’t just hurt the angel like he thought it would. It was an excruciating, horrible feeling that shook his entire existence to its core. The woman drew the spear from his side and frowned. 

“I thought It’d be... more dramatic.” She said softly. The woman threw down the bloody spear and walked out, hands still bloody. It would have been more dramatic. If it was a demon she’d killed. but it wasn’t. 

The angel felt his legs go numb, he stumbled and grabbed a table for support, the books stacked high tumbled under his weight and he hit the ground. 

The pain continued to radiate all over him and his breath went shaky and irregular. He needed... he needed Crowley. He needed to call Crowley, he’d know what to do. He looked up to the ancient phone sitting on the counter and started trying to crawl towards it. Pain weakening him considerably. It seemed impossible to make it the 20 feet to the rotary phone. He could be dead by the time Crowley arrived-

“AZIRAPHALE!” A familiar voice cried. A tsunami of relief went through the angel as the demon, his demon, rushed to his side, dropping his picnic basket as he did. 

“Aziraphale what the hell happened?” Crowley asked as he examined the demon. The angel didnt feel like mustering the energy to respond verbally so he pointed to the bloodied spear on the ground. The demon grabbed it and it hissed, burning his skin. He cried out, his snake tongue popping out for a moment as he cried out in pain. The demon kicked the spear away angrily and turned his full attention to his angel. 

“My lord Angel.” Crowley said softly, turning Aziraphale onto his back and examining him completely. The angel groaned softly and looked to the demon, desperate for hope, for anything. 

The demon cradled the angels head by the back of his neck and placed his head on his legs. He put his hand over Aziraphales, putting more pressure on the wound and scanning for any more wounds. The demons mind raced. How could he possibly fix this one? Would a miracle work? Possibly. He should at least try it. He does. Blood seeped through his fingers. The demon peered at the wound, he could see the skin of the angels stomach turn black and fester, it kept spreading and spreading. The black and fester creeped very slowly up his angels body. Looking like leichten on a rock. Crowley looked his angel up and down, he was clearly in extreme pain. The demon hated seeing him like this, pained, stressed, his curls clinging to his forehead, drenched in sweat. The demon pushed the angels hair back, smearing blood into his pale yellow hair. Every moment, every breath felt like the last one, savored and reflected on. The demons attention went to the wound again, to that creeping blackness. It hit the demon.

His skin, is... becoming cursed. 

“Shit” the demon hissed. The angel paid no mind to the wound in his side he was just staring up at the demon. He watched him move and think. He’d always loved seeing Crowley’s gears turn, this was probably the last time and he wasn’t trying to miss a moment of it. 

“Aziraphale i.... I don’t know how to fix this.” The demon said, he watched the corners of a pool of blood creep out from under the angel. It almost soaked his velvet vest completely red. 

“I don’t either, Crowley.” The angel responded, a tear slipping down his cheek. Panic sunk into the demons earthly bones, a panic the demon had never felt before. A calm, horrible, knowing panic. Then the demon... well, the demon tried praying. It burned the demon to pray. Hurt like hell and caused a lingering headache he’d have for the next week. It didn’t matter. He begged a silent prayer and gripped the angel tightly. 

“Are you...” the angel started. He felt the familiar warmth of a prayer radiating from the demon.

“Shut up.” The demon hissed. The angel pushed a knowing smile across his mouth. The demon saw this and his heart melted a little. A new wave of determination hit him, he was gonna keep that smile around if it killed him. The angel looked… pale, very pale. He’d never seen an angel so pale since… well since before there was light. 

“What does holy water do to... angels?” Crowley asked. He’d never bothered to ask. 

“I... I don’t know.” Neither had Aziraphale. He'd rarely seen angels touch the liquid and it was only archangels. Demons were... once angels, there were not many differences between the two.

“Do you have any?”

“Crowley-“

“Do you have any, Angel?!” He growled. 

“No but I... i ... yes.”

“Where?” The demon carefully placed the angels head on the ground and started flinging books, searching desperately, seeing white.

“CROWLEY” The angel yelled angrily. The demon stopped and looked to the angel as he propped himself up. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“Don’t-dont do anything rash?? Angel I believe rash actions are called for in the moment.”

Aziraphale knew his demon was right, he usually found this a rather charming trait, admirable, his willingness for self sacrifice but this time, it was different. This wasn’t a little sacrifice for the saving of the world or anything. This is his eternity he’s giving up for the angels. 

“Now tell me, where is the holy water?”

“It’s not safe-“

“AZIRAPHALE!” The demon cried, his voice breaking mid cry. 

“My desk, top right drawer, in the copy of Dante’s inferno.” He said reluctantly. 

The demon dashed into the back office and started scrambling to the messy desk. He rummaged into the drawer and found a leather bound copy of Dante’s inferno, he flipped it open and carved into the pages was a place that perfectly formed around a small glass container shaped like a heart with a flimsy looking cap keeping the deadly liquid from the demon. Crowley swallowed and pulled his sleeve over his hand, picking up the little vile. He carefully carried it to the angel. 

“Openitopenitopenitopenit.” The demon asked placing it on the angels chest. The angel obliged, his hands slick with blood and shaking almost violently, he struggled and dropped the vile. It hit the ground and bounced to the demons feet. The demon crouched down and took the corner of his jacket and Aziraphale’s hands. He wiped the angels hands free from most of the blood. Then he looked to the angel. He saw the panic in the angels eyes, a panic that wasn’t there before. He noticed the angel wasn’t breathing. 

“Azi-aziraphale?” Crowley gripped the angels shoulder tightly and looked to the wound. Angels didn’t need to breath, but it was still concerning that he wasn’t. The black had creeped up under the skin and was around his lungs. The angel nodded and gave him a half hearted thumbs up. The angel reached for the vile but it was just out of reach, Crowley kicked it into his hand and Aziraphale twisted off the top, a little of is sloshing out from his shaking hands. The demon jumped back, Aziraphale pressed his free hand into the demons shoulder and pushes him away. 

“Pour it on the wound.” Crowley said. 

The angel did, the water slipping into the wound, seeping into the cracks of the festered black skin and then... nothing. A small sizzling noise but nothing happened. The stress hit Crowley like a ton of bricks and he fell back into a ball, hugging his knees below his chin. A sinking awful, stress that hurt. A stress that morphed into anxiety and gripped Crowleys core. 

“Fuck” Crowley hissed, pressing his forehead into his knees. 

A cough pulled him from his cave and he looked up to see Aziraphale coughing. Breathing, blood now seeping from the wound again. His hand trying to stop the blood from flooding out of him. 

“Oh thank god’ The demon whispered. “OOhHAAaaaAAaAAOW” the demon cried like he was eating fire. 

“Crowley” The angel croaked, his voice broken and weak. The Demon moved to his angel and put one hand behind the angels head and the other was on the wound over the angels hand. The angel flipped his hand, curling his fingers through the space between Demons fingers. The Demons breath caught in his throat and he squeezed the hand of his Angel. He leaned over the angel, his forehead touching the angels chest. 

The angel’s bloody hand cradled the demons head and they just sat there, hands intertwined, bodies intertwined, eternities intertwined. 

Some people believe love just hits you. You meet someone and within a day, two months, a year, you’re in love. For some people, it seems that way, when in reality the same process happens but the process is just expedited. For angels, well for angels… well …. An angel has never really… fallen in love before. Not with another angel especially.

This should be interesting.


	3. My dear boy, you know I love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A demon confesses

The demon paced and paced and paced and paced. Tracing invisible infinity symbols into the nice hardwood floor. See this demon, is now more anxiety than he is ethereal. (Though he’d tell you occult though the difference was a clerical error) The demon kept glancing over at his angel. He was laying motionless, carefully tucked into a light blue quilt, chest rising and falling with careful, rhythmic breaths. The demon frowned and looked at a dead, dried up flower flopped over the glass lip of the vase. 

“Oh dear” the demon gently touches the long dead flower, it crumbled to the touch. 

“Crowley?” The angel croaked. The demon rushed to his side, grabbing the angels arm. The angel blinked and looked up at his angel, a smile playing weakly on his lips. “Crowley” He repeated, softly this time. 

“Angel” The demon responded just as warmly back to him, pushing a curl from the angels forehead. 

“I’m not discorporated.” The angel smiled. 

“No” The demon said his hand cupping the angels, very much corporate face. “You’re not. That magic water worked.” 

“It’s tickety-boo.” The angel whispered.

“Wow, ok, maybe I should’ve just drank that holy water myself.” Crowley grumbled. 

“No, my dear boy.” Aziraphale caressed the demons arm. The demon leaned over the angel, half out of relief and half to feel any sense of closeness. The demon lifted the angels pajama shirt and moved the bandage wrapped around his body. The wound looked… healed. As healed as a day would heal a body. The demon wasn’t put much at ease by this. The body is still pretty fragile, he didn’t know if the angel would be able to get another body after the breakup with heaven. The demon changed his bandages and sat up on the bed next to the angel. By the time Crowley had settled next to Aziraphale, the angel was sitting with his head and shoulders propped up, a pair of glasses resting on his nose and a large ancient looking leather bond book in his hands. 

The demon glanced to his angel. The morning light hitting his skin, illuminating his light hair like a… well a halo around the angels head. Seeing the angel like this, comfortable, safe, relatively unbothered, stirred some emotions in the demon he was not fully ready to face. Being so close to loosing his angel, seemed cause for caution in the near future. So no sweeping acknowledgments of emotion for this duo, no now was a time to focus on staying together-

“Aziraphale, I love you, I always have.” 

Some Ex-angels never change.

The angel froze. For a moment the demon thought he just ignored it, kept reading and they’d spend another 6000 years just pretending it never happened, But no. The angel turned to the demon, a shocked expression on his face, mouth agape. He pushed his glasses up, puckered his lips and searched his mind for a response to this. “I uh… well.” The angel hesitated and searched further and further into his brain. The angel… loved the demon too. Wanting to tell him desperately but faced with it like this, the angel when presented with the overt love of the man he loved, he expressed his emotions and-

“C-Crowley….I-i am an angel, you are-“ 

“Yes yes yes I know that, shut up.” Crowley said jumping up from the bed and paced nervously. “Never mind.” 

“No no, I’m sorry Crowley, I'm so sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for Angel? You didn’t do anything.” The demon growled, still pacing. “It’s fine, it’s nothing. I meant it in the friendship way.” He waved his hand dismissively.

Sure he did. 

“Oh dear boy you know I love you then.” Aziraphale managed to say. It felt like wave of water left him as he said those words to Crowley, but the context sucked some that water right back and he quickly felt like a kettle about to boil over again. The demon ran his hands through his hair and let out a grunt of frustration. The demon had returned to his state of pure concentrated anxiety. 

“Right, sure, yeah.” The demon pushed his sunglasses back over his eyes. “You’ll be alright if I leave for a quick outing, yeah?” The angel knew something was off. He couldn’t put his finger on it. 

“Yeah yeah of course, dear boy.” 

The demon pushed out of the small wall papered room and stormed down the stairs and into the street. Throwing himself into a full sulk saunter. 

Dear boy....I'm a demon not his dear boy.I'm an eternal creature of awesome power for evil. I just admitted I loved him and he calls me DEAR BOY. 

The demon didn’t realize this but he was mouthing these thoughts expressively. Resulting in some weird looks from the Londoners. 

Dear boy is what you call a child. The demon couldn’t believe the angel didn’t feel a single thing. That he could have been so naive to not notice the demon’s emotions. The demon had been anything but careful in hinting. He’d been flirting with the man for 6000 years he had to pickup a hint at some point. 6000 damned years of pining and flirting and just conveniently being there to pick up after the angels messes and all he got was a I love you too dear boy. The 

Shit, he couldn’t get mad at the angel for that. Thats such a stupid reason to be mad at him. He may not even be able to feel emotional or physical love. He sure as hell didn’t remember feeling love as an angel. He couldn’t remember much at all about being an angel.


	4. Stupid Ethereal Shit

Crowley… loved him. The angel couldn’t stop smiling, even though he’d just effectively turned the demon down. His heart thumped as he sat staring at the page in his book, not reading just processing. Why had he been so harsh. Why didn’t he just say what he was thinking? what he felt?

“Dammit you stupid ethereal shit” the angel hit himself in the temple with he heel of his palm. “Useless USELESS” pain rocked through him and the angel winced and sat back in his pillow. 

The angel closed the book and pressed it into the bed beside him, where Crowley now wasn’t. The longing he felt for the Demon to return to his side wasn’t pleasant. 

Meanwhile the demon had made a resolve to fix what he’d started back to the book shop. He needed to get to a place where he and Aziraphale were friends, not awkward friends but true honest to satan friends again. 

The demon walked up the stoop of the store and pushed in. He’d forgotten what it was left like. It looked like,, well it was a crime scene. Blood everywhere. The whole thing store, usually smelling like oak, rotting paper and Aziraphale, now smelled like blood and death. And blessings. The Spear sat on the ground, the angels congealed blood was dripping from the broken staff part. The demon looked at the spear head and punted it, the pointy end sticking straight into the wall. The Demon grabbed a thick paper back and chucked it in the direction of the spear let out up a gravely, horrible roar. Frustration and anger ripping through the demon, contorting his body in a swirl of limbs, bent to anger.

The demon resolved to kill the thing that did this, find them, hurt them, then kill them. He just had to figure out who did it.

“ANGEL” The demon cried, bounding up the stairs and bursting into the angels room, straight fire bursting out of every pore. The angel looked over to his demon, looking a bit shocked by the sudden outburst. 

“Are you alright Crow-“ 

“Who did it, who was it? Did you know them?” 

“Wha- This?” He pointed to himself and the angel nodded. Of course that you stupid angel. “Oh well, she was blonde… and American. She never said her name…” 

“You almost got killed…. By an American?” The demon said in a huff. “Almost seems fitting doesn’t it?” The demon said shrugging.

“Oh shut up, Crowley.” The angel tutted. 

“Shut up Crowley,” The demon savored the words as he repeated them, “you’ve never told me to shut up before.” He smirked. The angel frowned and sulked back into his pillow, he didn’t know what he expected to happen. “But an American? A blond American.” 

“I think she was a demon hunter.” 

“Real good demon hunter.” The demon grumbled. 

“I mean she was close.” The angel shrugged. 

“Stop giving her credit.” Crowley hissed, ripping off his sunglasses. The angel could see the angels whole eye was filled like pools of lava. The angel pressed his lips together and pulled his quilt up to his chin. 

“Oh don’t do that.” The demon growled. 

“Do what?” The angel cried outraged, by the mistreatment from his angel. 

“Do the whole-“ The demon lifted his hands to his face, looking rather like a squirrel cradling a nut. He increased his eye size by 25% and pouted at the angel. “THAT” 

“Why ever not, Dear boy.” 

“You know what you’re doing when you do that.” 

“I beg to differ! I do not know, I don’t even know exactly what we’re talking about!” 

The demon pinched his nose bridge and sighed deeply. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Crowley, She was just a human, wait 50 years and she’ll be gone, forever.” 

“What do you want to do?! Just wait here for 50 years?” 

“No well… if that’s what it takes Angel.” 

“They’ll always be demon hunters, Crowley.” The angel mused softly, sadly. The demon pulled at his fingers nervously. 

“She thinks I’m dead-“ 

“She knows you’re celestial, and I’m sure she’s got friends.” The realization hit the demon as it came out of his mouth. “Fuck” The demon growled, shoving his fingers through his hair. 

“Crowley, I’ll be fine.” The angel said. 

“We’ve been on earth for 6000 year, Angel, has anything like this ever turned out fine without action?” 

“No, it hasn’t. I just.. I think….” The angel groaned. “What if we just went to Germany?” 

“W-Germany? No we’re going to take care of this…” The demon took the angels arm. “Then we’re taking our holiday in Germany, without worry, a proper holiday.” 

The angel looked up at his demon, eyes brimming with every emotion, looking like he’s about to burst. 

“Oh Crowley,” The angel said wistfully. 

“Now we just have to find a blonde American!” The demon said breaking the moment. He froze. “Wait, blonde… American… demon hunter.” 

“What is it?” 

“I know her.” The demon stormed away from the Angel, pulling his phone out and looking something up.”There’s an american show about ‘demon hunters’” The demon put air quotes. “The host is a blonde woman.” The demon raised his phone so the angel could see the woman in the promotional picture.

The angel could hardly believe it, it was her. 

“That’s her.” 

The demon pulled the phone back and sneered at the woman. 

“I’ll kill her.” 

“She knows not what she does, Crowley.” 

“She fucking knows!” The demon growls. “She’s a demon hunter!” 

"She's just a human" The angel whined. He didn't like the thought of the demon going around after the woman, especially not alone. He also didn't like the thought of being left weakened and alone in the same place the woman came the first time. "Please just... stay here with me." 

"I'm not letting her get away with this." The demon growled. 

"I don't want you too." The angel said. "but...Just.. stay with me... for now" 

This felt like a stab through the chest to the Demon. The thought of Aziraphale being legitimately scared like this, hurt the demon. Crowley would have never imagined just leaving the angel alone, especially after this. The angel would not be out of the demons sight for the foreseeable future. He never wanted the angel to be afraid of anything again. He had this urge to protect the demon he'd been trying to make peace with for 400 years. Now there's no suppressing it, no dealing with it, it had to be acted on.


	5. Revelations and Cocoa

The demon sat up with a laptop all night, researching the woman and her show. He fumed all night, sipping on some whiskey he found in the Angels cabinet. The woman's name was Grace and she was the bubbly host of a very popular reality show about demon hunters called "Exorcise this!" The demon even watched an episode, the show was awful, filled with nothing but misinformation and lies. The demon watched another episode, then another, then another... It was all for research of course. The demon did admit, if only to himself that the show was entertaining if not accurate. Crowley looked over to his sleeping angel and pulled off the huge bucket headphones he'd stolen from his record player. The angel, usually looking serene, looked stressed and pained in his sleep. 

He found the woman on something called "Twitter" She posted pictures of her around London with her crew and the other people on the show. 

"I'm so excited to be going to the Tower of London, i've been fascinated by it since i was a little girl and now i get to exorcise the demons that dwell within, ty for this opportunity @ToLtweets" The demon squinted, not fully understanding what the tweet said. He looked to the Angel, he knew he had to go to the Tower of London and kill the woman. He had to do this if he wanted to fell safe in London for the next 100 years. 

Then it hit the demon. She could've told people about the Angel. About what she did. She's on a TV show what if it was being filmed, what if there were still cameras hidden around the book store. The demon had heard the devices were getting smaller and smaller. The one on his cell phone was so small. It could be hidden in the store. The demon ripped himself out of the bed and stalked down to the main store area. He started ripping the store apart, throwing books off the shelves and throwing them across the store. 

"There has to be one somewhere" He grumbled as he flipped through the pages of a book beautiful gold sprayed leather bound book. He let out a grunt of frustration and oh dear... the book went up in flames, ash running through his fingers. The demon searched every square inch of the bookshop, taking the liberty to check beneath some of the floorboards as well and of course, finding absolutely nothing. Well, nothing but some dust bunnies and the monocle Aziraphale wore around the turn of last century. It was wedged between the wall and a bookcase. It was quite befitting him and Crowley missed seeing him in it. Now he knew why he ever stopped wearing it. 

The demon took one more look around, took a deep breath and pulling from a deep well of demonic energy he snapped, the books returning to the state they were in before, how Crowley knew them to be. Which means the books were wildly out of order, see this demon never bothered to learn the dewey decimal system.

"Damn, I should've paid attention to Hastur's pitch." The demon lamented, thinking back to the demon showing the rest of hell, in excruciating detail the introduction of a new nuisance to anger and frustrate the people. "Actually.... nah I'm good." The angel shrugged. The demon dusted off his hands and then the monocle, looking at it fondly and bounding up the stairs. The angel was awake now, sitting up with hands intertwined on his lap. The angel opened his mouth to speak but before he could the demon threw the monocle onto the bed next to the angel. 

"You lost this." The demon said tossing the monocle to the bed next to the angel. 

"Oh Crowley" The angel crooned examining the monocle. "Where did you find it?" 

"It was behind a bookshelf." 

"Oh, well, thank you" The angel placed the monocle over his eye and looked to his demon with a huge smile. "Crowley" The angel said softly. 

"You're welcome." The demon pushed his glasses up his nose bridge, trying to suppress his growing smile. The angel cracked open his book and started reading. Truth be told the angel didn't much care more than to scan over the pages of the first edition Shakespeare, he'd received as a gift from a friend of the bard. He barely knew which work he was reading. He was watching his demon, pace, stress, and peek over at him every few minutes. It reminded Aziraphale of the feelings of the garden of Eden, everything knew, exciting and wonderful. He'd often wished to return to those days. Those musings on the nature of the Almighty, figuring out our place in the way of the world, the seed of the 6000 years of friendship being planted. Remembering how first beholding Crowley made him feel was... stirring, enlightening to say the least. The feelings the angel had suppressed back then bubbled up to the surface now and had been ever since the angel saw the demons true heart, ever since that night, during the blitz.

"Do you think monocles are back in macaroni?" The angel mused, adjusting the piece of glass. 

"Angel" The demon sighed. "Nothings been macaroni in 200 years."

The angel deflated a bit and reached to take off the monocle. He looked so fetching in it the demon called out. 

"But I do believe they're making a comeback." The demon said quickly. The angel took his fingers from the monocle and smiled. "Since when do you care what's in fashion anyway?" Crowley asked. "You've been wearing the same jacket for 200 years." 

"I think this jacket is still very much in style." 

"I guess it's better than you wearing that silly collar until the 18th century." The demon groaned. Reminiscing on the silly elizabethan collar the angel kept in his wardrobe long after it was considered fashionable until it "Mysteriously went missing." In all reality it was taken from the angel and gifted to Ligur as a "Gag gift." 

"I miss that collar, you know The Bard himself gifted that collar to me." He reminisced, looking quite wistful. The demon crossed his arms. And felt something demons rarely feel, Jealousy. Of course jealousy was nothing new to angels or demons, this pair had made sure of THAT over these 6000 years. See Jealousy is one of those things beings feel and can immediately recognize. Unlike love, or gas, sometimes you just can't figure out that feeling. No explanation or deep thought is required to covet. And the Demon coveted the angels affections for the Bard. The Bard was the first human the Angel had confessed to "loving." The demon could only imagine the passionate romance they shared together among the artists of 17th century London. 

The demon remembered the Bard very very fondly. Those nights of witting back and forth, philosophizing on the nature of fate, god and love. As clearly as he remembered the bards eyes twinkling in the firelight, he remembered the inspiration for the words on love the Bard had often coaxed him into sharing. He was always thinking about Crowley. It was always the demon, his demon, who sparked the fire of words that spat to the bard and ignited some of his works. Mostly the star crossed one, the Angel often mused in his demons "creation of the stars" always explaining that he didn't ACTUALLY create the stars and that he... she was a totally normal human woman of an appropriate age for him... a human. 

"Would you like some Tea, Angel?" The angel was actually just thinking about how he could use a warm cup of tea. 

"I'd absolutely love one, Dear Boy." 

The demon smiled and left the room, moving to the angels, very messy and rather cluttered kitchen. The kitchen was shrewn with every novelty single function kitchen device that humans had created. It was a little intimidating to the demon, who'd never actually... cooked anything before. He started picking up every little gadget trying to find one that said "Tea Maker3000" Or "This one magically materializes tea for ones very good friend, Aziraphale." Instead he was met with items such as "Onion chopper" "Garlic press" "A spice grinder" The demon frowned before stumbling on a copper kettle shoved behind a pastel pink "rice cooker." Next the demon just had to find tea. He flung open the pantry and was met with wine, boxes and boxes of wine. Each marked with years and a letter wax sealed to the butcher paper covering them. Wedged between one of the boxes and the top of the shelf was an obviously rifled through box of hot chocolate powder. Oh, with marshmallows. The demon took one more look around, not finding any tea he shrugged and moved to the kettle, reading the instructions. 

"Add to 8 OZ of hot water" 

"Perfect" The demon smiled, pressing his finder to the on button on the kettle. 

"ALSO: For a richer mix, add to 8oz of warm milk." 

"Damn..." The demon considered just using water. But he knew his angel well.

The demon flicked the kettle button off and moved to add milk to a pot. The demon warmed the milk, added it to a mustard yellow mug and with a wrist flourish added a swirl of whipped cream to the top of his hot chocolate. The demon smiled to himself, and then to the hot chocolate then to the stairs and then his Angel. 

"I thought you might like this better." The angel brightened up and urged forward, reaching for the mug. The Demon gave it, eager to elongate this moment of joy from the angel. This was another one of those times the Demon wanted, more than anything, to tell the demon he loved him. More than he wanted the stars to be suspended where he put them, he wanted to tell the demon how he felt. But the thought of the angel being even a little big off put by the demon and the angel not wanting to see the demon every day was too much to risk. 

"Oh Crowley, this is wonderful." The angel looked into the cup and sipped deeply. 

The Angel... well for the angel this was one of those times too. The warm hot chocolate, was, without a doubt, the best thing the angels earthly form had ever tasted. It wasn't just the dehydrated milk and chocolate powder made whole again by the warm milk, but the... the feelings imbued to the hot chocolate were... well, they weren't hard to for the angel to sense. The seizmic amount of feeling imbued to this chocolate was enough to jolt the angels hand and send hot chocolate running down his chest. The angel jumped at the pain and yelped. He didn't even realize he'd dropped the mug. Everything in the world froze. The demon and the Angel locked eyes.

"Are you alright?" The demon asked. 

"Yes i... i am." The angel stuttered. He touched the liquid, it was now stone cold. Miraculously. And his mug, his beautiful favorite mug was hovering above the ground, hot chocolate frozen in time. The Demon picked it up, scooping the liquid up and handing it back to the demon, with a small dip of his finger, reheating what he had turned cold. "I'm sorry, Crowley."

"Don't be." The demon smiled warmly, handing the angel the handkerchief that was kept on his side table. 

The angel slowly brought the kerchief to the stain and watched as the demon walked around to the other side of the bed. The demon wasn't just a good person, as the angel saw him, the demon was up there with the best. The very best. 

"How do you feel?" The demon asked. 

"Oh delightful, thank you, this is truly lovely cocoa." The angel said burying himself in the hot chocolate. 

"No, I mean your... body." The demon shook his head, like he didn't believe those words came out of his mouth. He could do better with phrasing. 

"Oh well... I feel fine." The angel in fact, felt like shit. He wasn't built for this. He'd built up this cushion of softness and protection in all of its forms just to avoid this happening like it had in the war. 

"Do you remember... when we fought each other, in the war, I mean." The angel said changing the subject. 

"No I... you know I don't remember much of the war- we fought?" 

"Forget it." The angel said waving his hand. 

"Forge-how am I supposed to just forget that angel! You dropped a bomb and now im just pushsheuahsdd" The demon was now imitating an explosion rather dramatically. 

"I'll tell you about it later." He glanced to the closet where he kept the many, many volumes on the angel's life. 

The demons phone dinged.

"Grace Hasburg tweeted a picture" 

It was an image of the woman leaning on the weathered wall of the Tower of London with a smile. 

The demon grabbed his coat and threw it on, sliding his glasses onto his nose bridge as he did. 

"Where are you going?" 

"The Tower of London"

"Whatever for?" 

"Meet with a mutual friend." The demon said. "I'll be sure to send your regards." 

He slammed the door and onto the streets.


	6. Those walls that surround us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!  
> This book was only going to be a few chapters with lots of hurt comfort, now I've got enough content to write another full book of armagedidn't content. So I'm just gonna keep writing until I hit a logical conclusion, plz bare with me. I'm also moving right now so this fic has pure, unfiltered STRESS baked into it so I hope that lovely aftertaste of anxiety pairs well with fluffy angel WHUMP. Also writing as a god narrator is hard and I've never really written in the 3rd person and it's weird. I hope it's not too unnatural lmao. 
> 
> Stan Crowley,  
> Stan Aziraphale,  
> Stream Good Omens.

Dear reader, fruit of my creation, i'd never dare tell you how to live your life, or read a chapter of a fanfiction based on the lives of a rebellious angel and a demon, but in this case I'm afraid my hands are tied. As your creator i must insist on this for your reading pleasure https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rY0WxgSXdEE . Of course, i cannot make you, I created free will and I'd love to watch you express it but with this... I may have to use some divine intervention. So enjoy, my fruit.

Crowley stormed, sauntered and somehow cascaded down the streets of London in a blur or repressed emotions and pure, unfiltered anger. Though Crowley neither cared nor noticed, what the people of London were seeing was a Lanky, stick of a man, growling about a demon hunter as he walked down the street while carrying a thick leather bound book. It was quite the sight to behold. 

The demon eventually sauntered his way to the Tower of London, being greeted by a small group of people looking through the gate for a glimpse at their favorite demon hunter from beyond the pond. The demon snapped and they parted, not on their own accord of course, and the gates swung open and slammed shut behind him. 

The demon bursts into the historical building and immediately felt full, he felt... well he must be feeling that same loved feeling Aziraphale felt. But it wasn't love. By George this place was... it was spooky. The demon couldn't help but take a second to embrace the pure spook... until he heard a laugh echo through the halls. 

"Darius please, I'm being serious, I just don't feel the presence of a demon here." 

"Americansssss" The demon growled. He moved into the main chamber, watched the pair filming each other in the pitch black. 

"I've never felt this feeling before but it's different." She said. She was blonde, rather pretty, and had a cat named Copernicus. The demon didn't bother to regard any of these facts because he snapped, a ball of light flying to the ceiling and sticking there, illuminating the whole room. 

"It's the presence an actual demon, you idiot." He hissed. 

The pair looked over to the strange looking man who wobbled over to them. 

"I-I'm sorry sir we're filming here." The woman said, the man, Darius pointed his camera on the man. The demon snapped and the camera slammed, shattered on the ground. 

"Not anymore." The demon smirked. After a beat the demon's whole demeanor changed. "You tried to kill my friend." he growled. 

"I uhh... no i i didn't i'm a fake-" 

The demon took a large step forward, rearing the book back and WHACK. Drug it across her face as hard as he could. She fell to the ground and the demon put his knee on her. The man was frozen, totally frozen. 

"You hurt my angel." 

"OW!" Grace cried. "What the fuck?!" 

"He is an Angel, you hurt an angel, but it wasn't just any angel you imbecile, it was mine. Now you've got the wrath of god and the wrath of Crowley to deal with." 

"I'M SORRY" She cried. "I was told a demon would be there!" 

"By who?!" The demon asked pressing his knee into her side. 

"No one-AAASasdhagas" The girl cried as the demon continued to press. ''HASTUR" 

The demon saw red, gripped the woman's t-shirt and slammed her head into the ground, knocking her out. He stood up and touched the man, he forgot all of this. 

"HASSSSSTUR" The demon hissed as he stormed out of the Tower of London. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he picked it up, it was Aziraphale. 

"Get back in bed." 

"I'm fine, Crowley." Aziraphale replied softly. "And you know I only have the one phone in my office, what did you expect me to do when you called?" 

The demon just hissed and hurriedly changed the subject. 

"It was Hasssstur." The demon said. 

"Hastur? That gentleman with the frog?" 

"Yes, with the... frog." 

"He told the demon hunter a demon would be at the bookshop." 

"Oh well that's ridiculous, he knows I'm an..." It hit the angel like a brick wall. "Angel.." He trailed off. 

"Come back." The angel said, the way he said it totally melted the demon. Every ounce of him turned to clay in the angel's hand.

"You know I wouldn't stay away for lo-" 

A clatter on the other side of the phone sent the demon running, the phone to his ear.

"ANGEL! ANGEELL!" The demon cried into the phone. 

He heard nothing but some distant chattering over the phone. Sprinting down the streets with vicious fervor, the demon didn't know it, but he was breaking Hicham El Guerrouj's world record for a 15000 meter run. A quite impressive sight, if you enjoy panting and flailing legs. Which of course, some people do. 

The demon was fast in this body, aerodynamic as a razor in the wind, so fast he made it back in time to see Aziraphale, his angel, sitting on the floor, wings spread to the edges of the room, holding a stick.

"Aziraphale?" 

"I... god... god just gave me this." 

"As in... God god?" The demon asked. 

"Yes God god, Crowley." The angel smiled as he turned the demon and held out the stick. Inscribed on it in Hebrew was ineffable. 

"What does... what do you think this means?" 

The angel stood up, the demon saw absolutely no sign of pain or anything, he was healed. The angel moved towards the demon, savoring the lovely flavor that remained in his mouth from his talking directly to god, same taste he tasted when he prayed. The same taste he tasted as his lips connected with the Demons'. The demon felt a shock of something as their lips connected, the demon froze, stiffened and then melted into the angels embrace. The angel gripped the demons side and caressed the back of his head, the kiss was soft, reluctant, but almost desperate as much as it was earnest and ardent. 

"A-An-Aziraphale." Crowley said softly, pulling away a bit from their long awaited embrace. 

"Yes, Crowley." 

"Why'd you wait 6000 years?" 

"Why did you?" 

"Fair point." 

The demon gripped the angels waist and pushed back into a deep kiss. The taste of prayer filled the Angels mouth as the Demon's tongue slithered its way in to his. This kiss was different, moving from soft reluctance and hesitance. This kiss was to make up for lost time. Desperate, longing and filled with passion as the two mouths moved in tandem, hands found places on each others body's, the kiss felt totally and incredibly... ineffable. To the angel and the demon of course, this kiss caused mass chaos on the streets of London. As the two finally consummated on 6000 years of miscommunication, the people of London were met with a large tree erupting from the centre of the Globe Theatre. 

"That was wonderful." The angel whispered. 

"It was" He said kissing him again, this time just a quick peck. 

"Why did... neither of us... do anything?" 

"Well I... for one, was afraid of you.. well.. you not feeling the same way." The angel answered, rubbing his hands nervously. 

"Of course I feel the same way, My Angel. I've felt the same way about you since the moment I met you." 

"You were always fast to fall." The angel said trailing off into thought. 

"Hey" Crowley frowned. "Still a sore subject." 

"Is it?" Aziraphale asked. "You falling, I mean. it's been... quite a while." 

The demon looked to his angel, how could the angel be so dense? So tone deaf? In a fit of rage the demon grabbed the stick still in Aziraphale's hand and it burst into hellfire and turned to ash on the hardwood. 

"WH-A-CROW-Crowley that was direct from god themself!" 

"If it was so special i'm sure she could send us another." 

"Why did you do that?" 

"You made me mad."

"Oh well I've been doing that for centuries! You should be used to it by now!" 

A stick hit the demon on the back of the head and he caught it, rubbing the spot it hit. The stick was exactly the same but inscribed on it was INEFFABLE, this time in all capitals. 

"Oh, oh no." The demon said scratching his head. "You're not gonna give us some clarification, Almighty?!"

The cry fell on deaf ears. 

Crowley threw the stick against the wall and the angel picked it up, discretely checking it for dents or chips.

"Crowley, do you think this means we did the right thing?" 

The demon stayed quiet for a long time. Pressing his fingers to his mouth, thinking. 

"No, i don't think it means that at all." The demon grabbed the stick from the the angel. "This is drift wood." The demon said examining it. "And-" He licks the stick."not just any driftwood, it's Olive." The angels face melted. 

"Oh dear" The angel whined. "So soon?" 

"Seems so" Crowley said taking the angels hand in his, the move was tender, comforting. "But it could be any time really, the Almighty isn't usually one for meeting deadlines.... Yknow, time being all.." The demon motioned vaguely-Oh fun! I didn't know fingers could move like that. "Wibbly-wobbly up there." 

"True," The angel frowned and looked around nervously. "Oh well... is there an... anti-anti-christ coming from your si-the downstairs that you know about?" 

"No, nothing from them. Anything from upstai-" The angel muted the demon with a wave of his holy stick.... wait-oh no let me rephrase that-


End file.
